Graham Masterton - The Manitou

Lieutenant Marino was still listening, but he was looking more and more miserable with every word that Singing Rock spoke. Detective Narro was trying to keep up with it, but it was plain that he believed that Misquamacus was a criminal maniac with a hidden gang. In Detective Narro's life, spirits and insubstantial shades from nether worlds just didn't exist. I wished to God that they didn't exist in mine.

Singing Rock said: "From the gateway that Misquamacus is preparing, I think that he is calling on the most terrible of all spirits, the Great Old One."

Lieutenant Marino said: "The Great Old One? Who is the Great Old One?"

"He is the equivalent to your Satan, or Devil. Gitche Manitou is the great spirit of life and Red Indian creation, but the Great Old One is his constant enemy. There are many accounts of the Great Old One in ancient Indian writings, although none of them agree what he looked like, or how he could be summoned. Some say he looked like a huge toad, the size of several pigs, and others say he looked like a cloud with a face made of snakes."

Lieutenant Marino sniffed. "Kind of hard to send out an APB on that description."

Singing Rock nodded. "You wouldn't get the opportunity, Lieutenant. The Great Old One is the most ravenous and hideous of all demons. I have said that he's like your Satan; but Satan, by comparison, is a gentleman. The Great Old One is a being of infinite cruelty and malevolence."

There was a long silence. Finally, Lieutenant Marino stood up, and adjusted his revolver in his belt. Detective Narro closed his notebook and buttoned up his coat.

"Thank you for your information and your assistance," said Lieutenant Marino. "Now I think we'll go catch ourselves a homicide." Singing Rock said: "Lieutenant — you're not taking your gun?"

Marino simply smiled. "Your stories about demons and all that stuff are very imaginative, Mr. Singing Rock, but I have a homicide squad to run. The hospital has asked us to winkle out a mad patient who's already killed one nurse and injured a doctor, and it's my duty to go down there and get him out. Dead or alive, you understand, depending on how he wants it. What did you say his name was? Mickey something?"

"Misquamacus," corrected Singing Rock quietly. "Lieutenant, I'm warning you —"

"Warn me no warns," said Lieutenant Marino. "I've been serving this force for longer than a coon's age, and I know what to do in situations like this one. There won't be no trouble, and there won't be no fuss. Just keep your heads down until it's all over."

He opened the office door, and the press and the TV people came pushing in. Singing Rock and I stood amongst them, silent and depressed and frightened, while Marino gave a tough two-minute résumé of what he planned to do.

"We're going to seal off the whole floor, then comb the corridors with marksmen and tear gas. We're going to do it real systematic, and we're going to issue regular warnings to this nut that if he doesn't come quiet he's in genuine trouble. I'm also sending three men down in the elevator to cut him off from that direction."

The reporters scribbled down Marino's plan, and then bombarded him with more questions. Marino raised his hands for silence.

"I'm not saying anything else for now. Just watch how we flush him out, and then we'll chew the fat later. Is everyone ready, detective?"

"Ready, sir," said Narro.

We watched despondently as a squad of eight armed patrolmen went to the staircase and disappeared through the door. Lieutenant Marino was standing by the elevator with his hand held intercom, checking for the moment when the search-and-destroy team would reach the tenth floor. Three men — two uniformed officers and Detective Narro — were waiting by the elevator, revolvers ready, all keyed up for the moment to go down there and shoot it out. After nine or ten minutes of restless waiting, there was a buzz from the men down below.

"How you doing down there?" called Lieutenant Marino through the intercom.

There was a crackle of static, then a voice said: "It's dark. We can't get the lights to work. We may need some floods."

"Are you into the corridor yet?" asked Lieutenant Marino. "Can you see anything?"

" We're just through the door and we're ready to fan out and start looking. No sign of any trouble so far. "

Lieutenant Marino gave the thumb's up to Detective Narro and his two uniformed buddies, and they entered the elevator and pressed the button for 10. Singing Rock and I didn't look at each other as the doors slid shut and the floor indicator blinked 18–17 — 16–15 — 14 and down. It stopped at 10.

"How you guys doing?" asked Marino, into his intercom.

"We're fine," came the voice of the search-and-destroy leader. "So far there's nothing to report. We're going through every room, one after the other, and we're checking everything."

"Keep alert," said Marino.

Detective Narro's voice, distorted by the intercom, said: "It's very dark indeed. The flashlights don't seem to work properly. Does anyone know what's wrong with the lights?"

Dr. Winsome said: "We've already checked. There's no fault that we can detect."

Lieutenant Marino said: "They say the lights have been checked and they can't help. Just be careful, and hold your flashlights away from your body. You don't want to make yourself an easy target."

"Christ," I whispered to Singing Rock, shaking my head. "They still think they're fighting a mad gunman."

Singing Rock was very pale. "They'll find out," he said grimly. "I just hope it isn't too bad when they do."

The voice of the search-and-destroy leader said: " I'm having some trouble here. The floor plan of these corridors doesn't seem to tally with the maps. We've been around in a circle twice, and it looks like we're just about to do it for the third time."

"Illusions," said Singing Rock softly. A newspaper reporter with carroty hair looked up and said: "What?"

"What's your position?" asked Lieutenant Marino. "What room is nearest to you?"

" Room Ten-Oh-Five, sir. "

Lieutenant Marino hurriedly consulted his floor plan. Then he said: "In that case, there should be a turning to your left, and then a right and you're into the next section."

There was a brief silence, and then the voice said: "Sir — there's no turning. I mean, there's no opening. This is just a blank wall here. I can't see anything."

"That's nonsense, Petersen. There's a turning right in front of you."

"Sir, there's no turning. They must've changed the place around since these maps were drawn."

Lieutenant Marino turned around to Dr. Winsome, but Dr. Winsome simply shook his head. Lieutenant Marino said: "The hospital people say no. Are you sure that's ten-oh-five?"

"Affirmative, sir."

"Well, keep on looking. There's probably been some kind of mistake. Maybe the suspect changed the room numbers around."

"Sir?"

"Well, I don't know! Just keep looking."

At that moment, there was a buzz from Detective Narro. His voice sounded oddly hoarse and strained.

"I seem to think we have trouble here, sir."

"What kind of trouble?" rapped Lieutenant Marino. "Did you locate the suspect?"

"Sir — we're having some kind of a — "

"Narro? You're having some kind of a what?"

"Sir — we're — "

The intercom crackled for a moment, and then went dead. For a brief moment, I heard the mournful monotone of that wind that blew and didn't blow at all. Then there was silence.

Lieutenant Marino pressed his call button "Narro? Detective Narro — can you hear me? Narro — what's going on down there?"

There was a buzz from the search team. Marino said: "Yes?"